Page 45 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

“Fine.” I breathe in slow spurts.

What’s wrong with me? I’m reading into everything Nathan does. It’s nothing. We’re friends. I adjust my necklace and smooth my top.

“It’s time to slow this party down and get sexy, y’all. Wolf Savage is here to set the mood,” the DJ announces over a microphone.

The music changes tempo, and the crowd goes wild. Everyone’s attention turns to the stage.

Before us, bright lights flicker on and then off. In the darkness, the word BOYFRIEND flashes in tall cyan letters on the backdrop. A slow seductive acoustic mix plays so loudly, the instrumental music makes my bones buzz.

In the next flash of lights, Nathan appears.

His head tilts away from the sharp lighting, accentuating his angular chin. He’s not dressed much differently than he was when we arrived. With the backwards baseball hat, hoodie, and God-help-me gray sweatpants that seem to accentuate the shape of his package, he emanates a distinct bad-boy-next-door vibe. Even with baggy clothing, you can still see the definition of his lady-killer body.

Before Nathan moves a muscle, I’m enamored. The world around me dissolves, and it’s just us and a song that promises all the ways he would be a good boyfriend.

Boyfriend? I clench his note.

His dance moves are different tonight. Here, he’s an artist, his body swaying, his arms cutting the air in extravagant and intimate gestures. His face is filled with the emotion of the song. When he looks out toward the audience, he stares directly at me. The connection draws me from my seat until I’m standing and moving to the music with him.

In my mind, where it’s safe to do things I can’t in real life, we’re together. His hands are on my back while his hips roll with mine.

I’m brought back from my daydream when he blows me a kiss and tosses his baseball cap. I catch it with both hands. The song ends and the audience applauds.

His spell on me breaks and I drop into my seat, breathless and my head swimming.

“Is it me, or did he eye-fuck you the entire time?” Mom asks.

I laugh because I think she’s joking, but then I decide she’s serious. I find I’m wordless. If she saw what I felt, everyone probably saw. When I glance around, people are staring. I sink into my seat a few inches.

“Half your age plus seven,” she says and pours me another glass of champagne.

“What?”

“That’s the maximum appropriate age gap between lovers.”

“I’ve never seen you apply that rule.”

“In my world, there are no rules, but that’s beside the point. I find it more interesting you didn’t deny that you’re lovers.” She tilts her head meaningfully.

This was her intended trap, and I fell right into it.

I stare at the bubbles in my glass with a sense of unease.

Even if I’m feeling something for Nathan, I wasn’t ready to share. Those emotions, no matter how real or contrived, only lived in my head. Now they’re out there, and she knows. And if she knows, others will too.

“We’re friends. Nothing’s happened.” I’m hanging from the lie by a fraying thread.

“Yet,” Mom says.

20/

jeanie

Mouth Attachments

South Beach’s shops and vibrant restaurant scene are shutting down for the night. Busboys stack tables and chairs. The famous neon signage flickers off. A few couples stroll hand in hand. Some disappear into the darkness of the isolated beach as palm fronds rustle in the warm breeze.

“What did you think of the show?” Nathan asks as we stroll down Ocean Drive.